


Scenario 15

by rideswraptors



Series: Kastle Scenarios [16]
Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, see first part for warnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-27 21:37:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16227809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rideswraptors/pseuds/rideswraptors
Summary: To date, it wasn’t her best plan. Hell, it wasn’t even a plan, really. Plans could typically produce a specific desire result, and Karen was just grasping at straws here. She didn’t even know if he was in the city. Or the country.Or if he was even alive.





	Scenario 15

To date, it wasn’t her best plan. Hell, it wasn’t even a plan, really. Plans could typically produce a specific desire result, and Karen was just grasping at straws here. She didn’t even know if he was in the city. Or the country. 

 

Or if he was even alive. 

 

But she was going a little crazy sitting around, waiting for any news. She’d nagged her way down her contact list and there was nothing. Not a peep of information about Frank Castle or where he’d gone. So she got a little desperate, all right?

 

It wasn’t the best neighborhood and it wasn’t the most direct route home, but she went that direction anyway, half on impulse. One thought had been pumping through her head all day: if she was in trouble, Frank would come. Those were  _ his _ rules, not hers. So she figured, if she got herself in a  _ little _ trouble, she could test the waters. See if he was still around. Push his buttons. Karen had to believe that if some government agency had him, then they were giving him reports on whatever he wanted under surveillance. Karen was not stupid enough to believe that Frank wouldn’t have her watched, and that was probably the only thing that would keep him in one place for long. It wasn’t ego on her part, or presumption. It was everything that had happened before he left her in that damn elevator. That press of their foreheads that screamed reluctance to leave her behind. The muzzle of his gun against her throat while his fingers grazed her skin, nowhere near the trigger. Karen wanted to know what would have happened if they’d had five more minutes. Ten. An hour. A lifetime. 

 

So she kept going down those dark streets through that bad neighborhood to get home at night. It actually became more of a routine, some kind of sick habit that was pseudo-comforting.  _ Maybe I’ll get jumped today. Maybe he’ll drop down from the sky and save me.  _ It was stupid and reckless, but she kept doing it. She made friends with the homeless people along her route, offering them cash and asking them if they’d seen a man of Frank’s description. It wasn’t a new conversation for them: a beat-up veteran with a bad attitude lost somewhere in the city streets. They promised to keep an eye out, but nothing ever came of it. 

 

Nothing came of her plan, regardless. Until one day, when it wasn’t even a plan, it was just part of her routine. 

 

She was late out of the office again. Chasing down a lead which was probably more than she could handle alone again. Wondering if she’d have to move again. Wondering if she had anywhere safe to go anymore again. When she caught sight of a form that was incredibly familiar. He didn’t step fully into the light, and Karen was almost convinced he was some pathetic hallucination she’d conjured up. But no, he was solid and real, and watching her from across the street. 

 

She didn’t stop, didn’t approach, just kept walking along her same route, greeting the people she knew there. He followed and her heart clenched tight. He wasn’t subtle about it either, which meant he wanted her to know he was there. Honestly, she was rather irritated about the whole situation, and not entirely convinced it was him. Part of her didn’t want to believe it, didn’t want to get her hopes up. So she did something else to draw him out.

 

Karen ducked into a crowded club she passed every day. The bouncer didn’t even stop her, didn’t bother looking twice after he saw long legs and blonde hair. It was dark except for the flashing lights which pulsed everywhere around the room, and it was so loud she thought she could cry for it. The bass was heavy enough to feel in her chest. But she didn’t care, she pushed and nudged her way through to the dancefloor, knowing he’d find her.

 

If it really was Frank, he’d find her anywhere. And he’d do anything to get to her. He’d already proven that. 

 

She moved to the center of the dance floor, ignoring the way people knocked into her, jostled her around. She just shut her eyes and kept still, trying to keep centered and let her mind get lost in the music. It was hard, too, because she wasn’t a huge fan of electronica. She let out a slow exhale and opened her eyes to see pulsing green lights and Frank Castle edging his way through a sea of people. 

 

He didn’t fit in there. Covered up, all in black, posture rigid and uncompromising. He didn’t get jostled the way she did, in part because of his size, in part because people were giving him wide berth. Karen just stood there, watching and waiting, her body swaying a little in time to the music. They locked gazes when she could see the whites of his eyes. From what she could tell, he looked good, no bruises or gashes or limps. He looked filled out and rested.

 

Frank came to a stop a breath away from her, blocking anyone from knocking into her now. She just looked up at him, still waiting. If he wanted something, he was going to have to come back all the way. No half measures. She would understand if he couldn’t. She would understand if it wasn’t possible. But then why follow her here? That small voice of unreasonable hope pounded in the back of her head and refused to be silenced by her logic. 

 

He did come that last part of the way. He leaned into her, putting their foreheads together. Karen’s hands automatically lifted to his arms and her eyes fluttered shut. He was so close and warm and alive, and he smelled amazing. Maybe she was just overly excited, but she really thought so. He rolled his face so that their cheeks were pressed together, his nose at her ear. She could feel his breath on her skin and his hands heavy on her waist, now. 

 

“What are you doing to me?” she whispered uselessly. His response was to nuzzle against her neck, lips dragging. Karen did the same, pressing kisses along his cheekbone, down his jaw, to the corner of his mouth, and chin. His bit of scruff felt good against her lips and cheek, and she couldn’t resist rubbing against it. She felt, rather than heard, his growl. She felt it against her chest and belly, like a feral dog growling in warning. Karen nudged his cheek with her nose and kept going, to the hinge of his jaw, nipped at his earlobe, pressed her lips to his pulse point. 

 

Karen was in such a daze that she forgot about the crowd of sweaty, intoxicated people around them. She forgot about the music pounding in her forehead. She forgot about everything that wasn’t within that two square feet with her. Frank’s arms were fully around her now, encapsulating her in his whole person, his scent, his warmth, his strength. And she had no real desire to move from that spot ever again. 

 

“C’mon,” he said against her skin, “ _ home _ .”

 

She let him put his arm around her waist and lead her out the back exit of the club. It went into an alley where a couple was plastered up against the wall, making out furiously, while others loitered and smoked. Frank kept her tight against his side, monitoring, assessing, and Karen held him right back. She didn’t feel any need to be further away than necessary. Her apartment was only a few blocks from there, so they walked in companionable silence. She didn’t want to ask questions and knew that he probably didn’t want to answer them. They would both have to. Eventually. But not now. Not right then. 

 

Frank kept close to her back while she opened the door to her building, leaned into her when a drunk neighbor stopped her to chat. Held out a hand to stop the guy from hugging her when they said goodbye. All Karen had to do to subdue him was trace a finger across his abdomen, and he settled. Her neighbor, Joe, left indignantly, but she didn’t mind. She just curled into Frank’s side in the elevator, trying to stifle her amusement, but it was difficult. She felt delirious, like this wasn’t real, like it couldn’t possibly be real. She wanted to drown in him. The Punisher had his arm around her, not to keep her standing, just to keep her near him. 

 

They got through her door, him quick on her heels, and she headed for the bedroom. That’s where she assumed this was going anyway, so why dawdle? But she was stopped short when he held tight to her hand. She turned back, confused. 

 

Frank had a soft look in his eye, no skittishness in sight. Not something that happened often with him. He always looked ready to run off, apologize, get out of her way, but not then. He laced their fingers together, brought them to his lips and kissed a few of her knuckles. Karen couldn’t resist the pull he had on her, couldn’t resist taking that last step between them and putting their foreheads together. 

 

But then he was reaching for a bottle she’d left out on the counter that morning; a bottle she’d had every intention of finishing by herself in a hot bath. 

 

“Wine?” he asked, voice rough and scratchy like he hadn’t spoken in days. It came out of nowhere, this near-screeching halt. 

 

“What?” 

 

Frank set the bottle back on the counter and slid his arms around her, encircling her, and putting his lips to her ear. 

 

“Need to slow down. M’not goin’ anywhere.”

 

She let out a huff, “Promise?”

 

He kissed her cheek, lingering, and whispered, “Promise. Now lemme pour you a glass and tell you everything.” 

 

So she did, and so did he. 

 

It wasn’t a pleasant conversation, exactly. Frank told her a lot of horrible things. And she’d truly thought that his story couldn’t get any worse than his family being murdered, being left alone to get revenge, and now his own friend had betrayed him. How many people had died because of it? She shuddered to think. But Frank kept his voice steady and low, baring the facts and events to her without much feeling. Trauma, she thought, had a way of doing that. 

 

They leaned closer and closer together as he talked. He picked up her hand and she played with the hem of his hoodie, wine essentially forgotten. She asked him a few dozen questions, and he answered all of them as best he could. Without hesitation. He laughingly told her it felt a lot like an interrogation. He’d been through plenty enough of those. Karen let out an exasperated sigh and dropped her head to his shoulder. She shut her eyes against the kiss he pressed to the side of her head.

 

“Last question, Frank,” she said, putting an arm around his waist. He snaked his own around her back and reached up to push back a stray lock of hair. 

 

“It’s Pete.” 

 

“Never.” 

 

“Whatever you say, ma’am.”

 

She shook her head at him. “Why’d you come back? New name, new life, war won.” She shrugged. “Why come back here?” His hand slid under her chin, tipping her head back to force her to look at him. His eyes were dark and heavy, but warm, not at all like the empty voids she’d seen in the Punisher’s face. Even if no one else could, Karen could always tell the difference. When those eyes dropped to her lips, she shivered and he knew it. The corners of his lips lifted just slightly enough to be noticeable. 

 

“Unfinished business,” he answered gruffly, the whole of his attention on her mouth now. His thumb moved across her chin rhythmically, his fingernails grazed her neck. It was driving her mad, the heat, the anticipation, the closeness with no satisfaction. 

 

“Business,” Karen repeated breathlessly. “With Madani?” 

 

His small smile spread into a full-on smirk with a flash of his eyes and he tightened his hold on her. 

 

“No, Karen,” he bent lower so that his breath ghost over her skin, “not with Madani.” 

 

She felt ridiculous, silly, checking to be sure that he didn’t have feelings for the federal agent when he was pressed up so close to her. But some part of her ego must have thought it was necessary. Just to clear the air, to make sure her intentions were understood. She huffed when he didn’t bring mouth any closer, just teased her skin with light brushes of lips. 

 

“So you gonna kiss me or what?” she griped, a combination of irritated and amused and too tired of waiting now that she had some alcohol in her system. Karen could practically  _ see _ his ego growing three sizes too big for him as he grinned at her, smile stretching across her skin. The jerk.

 

“That was the idea, yeah,” he chuckled, hand smoothing back across her jaw to sink into her hair, utterly ruining it. She’d spent an hour on that updo. Somehow it felt worth it when he slid pins out one by one, until her hair was down and disheveled. He carded his fingers through it, smirk fading into something more thoughtful.

 

“Heard about Red,” he confessed gently. Karen nodded because that figured. Micro would have made sure Frank knew everything that was going on in his absence, especially if it impacted her. “I’m sorry.” His hold on her prevented her shrug, but it didn’t prevent the sentiment. Everyone thought Matt was dead. Karen just thought differently. Just as everyone thought Frank Castle was dead, and she’d spent months thinking differently. These men in her life just didn’t know when to quit. 

 

“Tell me to fuck off,” he continued, lips against the pad of her cheek. “Tell me to leave.” 

 

“Only if you promise to say no.”

 

“Karen--”

 

She squeezed her arms tight around his middle. “You came back,” she told him simply. “I’m not about to let you go again.” 

 

“Oh yeah?” 

  
“ _ Yeah _ ,” she assured him, her voice more of a pant than anything else. “And if you try, I’ll have Jessica hunt you down.” 

 

Frank snorted, and she was about to shoot back a scathing response to his indifference when he bent suddenly and swept her off her feet. She squealed, latching her arms around his neck, as he carried her bridal style to the couch. He lowered himself down, pulling her squarely into his lap, and slid a hand up and down her thigh. 

 

“Jones couldn’t find her way out of a paper bag these days.” 

 

Karen hummed, running her fingers over his scruff and ear, back into his hair. 

 

“Be nice. She’s had a rough time of it lately.” He scowled and she used her free hand to pinch the back of his neck. 

 

“ _ Fine _ , I’ll be nice to the baby superheroes if  _ you _ promise to stop walking around shitty neighborhoods at night.” 

 

Karen flushed, felt her chest get hot, too, and bit down on her bottom lip. “Everyone said you were dead--”

 

“M’sorry bout that.” 

 

She nodded. “I guess I thought if I got myself in enough trouble…” 

 

His frown was pretty deep, eyes flashing warningly. “Don’t ever--”

 

“I had my gun, Frank, and I do have people watching out for me.” 

 

“Yeah, well, you need more than one,” he grumbled sourly, looking away from her for a brief moment. Karen tilted his face back to hers and shivered when his hand drifted down her calf, squeezing at her ankle. 

 

“I  _ missed _ you, asshole,” Karen shot back without remorse. Frank grunted, trying to look away again, but she held his chin fast and firm, making sure he didn’t dismiss or misunderstand her. “I did. Don’t make me miss you again.” 

 

“Won’t.”

 

“Good.” 

 

They met in the middle, heads tilting to accommodate. Karen realized it was always going to be this way. The two of them, coming halfway, reaching for each other, as equals. His lips moved hungry and sure over hers, and she opened for him without being asked. His grip on her tightened and she felt a flash of liquid heat pool in her center when he growled low in his throat. Because it was involuntary, unbidden, and his grip was so fierce it would probably bruise. And Karen wouldn’t mind it at all. In fact, she was looking for undeniable proof that he wasn’t some specter from a fever dream. A little pain would help with that. 

 

She had two hands on his face, trying to get closer. Close as she could get. They’d set a furious pace, one that wasn’t sustainable for long, not without air. But Frank was relentless, kissing her until she was dizzy from it, overloading her senses (and her common sense, for that matter). She squirmed in his grasp when he finally released her to kiss a trail down her neck and devote his attentions there. She couldn’t hear anything other than the throb of her pulse and his breath in her ear, couldn’t feel anything other than his lips on her neck and the ache between her thighs. She gasped when his hand drifted down, snaked up under her skirt, and he palmed her, giving just enough pressure to drive her nuts and make her writhe against him. Karen wanted to get closer, shift their position to get more friction where she needed it, but he wouldn’t let her. Wouldn’t let her move away from his grip or his mouth. It was just this side of not enough. 

 

“Fr-Frank!” she panted out, annoyed beyond reason. His low chuckle was infuriating. “Would you-- _ shit _ . Stop fucking around!” He outright laughed, making her want to scream. Or tear his hair out. Or both. Before she could do either, he was snatching her panties, working them down, and replacing them with his hand. She cursed, sharp and loud, arching up into him as he worked her. He steadily alternated twisting his fingers inside her and rubbing her clit with the heel of his palm, making her feel a little feral and too damn greedy. She pushed back against him trying to speed it up, get where she wanted to go, but then he would slow down or loosen his grip, and she’d groan her frustration. 

 

“That’s it, baby,” he crooned at her, “tell me.” 

 

“ _ Fuck you _ ,” she hissed back, skin too tight and pimpling. 

 

“Atta girl,” was his low reply. He sped up, working her harder and faster, until the tension crested and shattered. She turned her face to his arm and bit down, hard, to keep quiet. She hardly felt his mouth on her neck and ear, his palm continuing to move gently against her as her body settled. 

 

“Damn,” Karen breathed out, trying to stop her head from spinning, even as Frank continued to kiss at her neck and face. “Been too long.”

 

“A crime,” Frank grunted, “in my not very humble opinion.” She snagged his lips for another thorough kiss, letting him set the pace and ravish her with tongue and teeth. He was hard, solid, beneath her, and she knew it, and he knew it, but he wasn’t moving anywhere. She jerked her face away.

 

“Frank, let me--”

 

“Not a chance, beautiful,” he stopped her hand, grabbing her by the wrist and shoving it away. “Apology first. Me later.” Frank bit her earlobe and she shivered so hard she thought she’d come again. 

 

“ _ Frank _ \--”

 

“Ma’am,” he told her very seriously, pulling away to look her dead in the eye, “I am taking you to bed, making you come until you black out, and then I’m going to make you breakfast in the morning.” 

 

Karen licked her lips, unable to prevent the flash of heat across her face. 

 

“Yeah?”

 

He nodded slowly, eyes locked on her lips. “Yeah.” 

 

“Frank?”

 

“Hmm?” 

 

“Take me to bed.”

 

“Yes, ma’am.

  
  
  
  



End file.
